


Walk the Line

by msred



Series: Puckleberry Shuffle [12]
Category: Glee
Genre: Chris Daughtry - Freeform, F/M, Johnny Cash - Freeform, college Rachel, musician Puck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-13
Updated: 2012-06-13
Packaged: 2017-11-07 16:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/433108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msred/pseuds/msred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I keep a close watch on this heart of mine/I keep my eyes wide open all the time/I keep the ends out for the tie that binds/Because you're mine, I walk the line"</p><p>No one, least of all Noah Puckerman, thought that following Rachel Berry to New York (and yeah, after a year and a half, he would finally admit that's what he had done) and enrolling in Borough of Manhattan Community College would result in him being on a national tour with (okay, opening for, same difference) one of the hottest rock acts of the moment only eighteen short months later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walk the Line

' **Walk the Line' – Johnny Cash (as covered by Chris Daughtry) ~ {www[dot]youtube[dot]com/watch?v=l8DhjMfshEo}**

**_I keep a close watch on this heart of mine  
I keep my eyes wide open all the time  
I keep the ends out for the tie that binds  
Because you're mine, I walk the line _ **

"Rachel. _Rach_." Quinn hovered over her, calling out to her repeatedly and even shaking her gently before rolling her eyes and groaning. "Yo, Caroline!" Quinn resorted to the name that never failed to get Rachel's attention – the name that had been pouring out of her phone for the last two minutes, the name that woke Quinn from her own peaceful sleep – before she took a step back, crossing her arms over her chest and smirking down at a groggy Rachel Berry.

"I'm up, I'm up!" Rachel rolled onto her back and stretched both arms over her head before using her fists to rub at her eyes. "What is it Quinn?"

"You know, I get that your ringtone's like, _sentimental_ , and all, but _I_ have no particular attachment to it, and I certainly don't enjoy being woken up by it playing repeatedly on _my_ desk at midnight." Quinn actually laughed out loud a little when the fog visibly cleared from her roommate's eyes. She presented the phone in front of her body, holding it between her thumb and middle finger, and gave it a little shake. "Boy's on the phone." Quinn tossed the phone onto Rachel's bed before turning and taking the few steps necessary to fall face-first back into her own mattress.

Rachel scrambled to retrieve her phone from amidst her blankets and pressed it to her ear. "Hello?" She tried to sound like she hadn't just woken up, as if he couldn't tell from having to call numerous times in a row, only to be greeted by the sounds of Quinn struggling to wake her. Either way, it had taken an hour of pleading and convincing to get to him to agree, to _promise_ , to call her every night when the show was over because he didn't want to be responsible for her losing sleep and possibly suffering for it academically (her words, not his; his words were, _"Babe, I don't wanna keep ya up every night. You got class and shit."_ ). He reminded her that he would be calling her every day for their standing lunch date, but she had insisted that she wanted to hear about every show immediately, before he had the time to forget a single detail or, worse yet, how it felt being out there. She didn't want to blow it on the first night by appearing too tired to talk to him.

"Hey baby."

Rachel could hear the smile in his voice and it made her stomach flutter. Even if she had always assumed that she would be the one out of all of their friends (or at least the first one) to become a household name – and okay, maybe Broadway actresses weren't exactly _household_ names, but having her name in lights and on billboards and the sides of buses would at least make her name recognizable to the approximately 1.5 million residents of Manhattan – she would never, ever think of begrudging Noah the fact that his name was the one that was getting out there first. She was happy for him, thrilled really, and the one thing making the entire experience better (for both of them) was the fact that they were going through it together. If anything, it only reconfirmed what she already knew, which was that Noah was the only man she wanted at her side when she got her own turn in the spotlight.

No one, least of all Noah Puckerman, thought that following Rachel Berry to New York (and yeah, after a year and a half, he would finally admit that's what he had done) and enrolling in Borough of Manhattan Community College would result in him being on a national tour with ( _okay, opening for, same difference_ ) one of the hottest rock acts of the moment only eighteen short months later. But shortly after getting into the city, Puck realized that, while the idea of 'shacking up' with Rachel seemed nice in theory, the actuality of both of them squeezing onto her NYU-issued twin bed with Quinn sleeping in the top bunk was much less glamorous. So, he found a tiny studio apartment just off-campus and got two jobs – one working third shift unloading trucks at a warehouse and another working between classes as a studio guitarist at a grungy studio around the corner whose usual clientele consisted of high school kids looking for their 'big break' and middle aged men looking for their second chance. He didn't mind the work – he had never been one to shy away from hard work – but he hated that between the two jobs and his classes he spent like, three hours a week or some shit with his girl. He considered lowering his course load, or even dropping it altogether (because he couldn't afford to eat if he quit one of his jobs), but she wouldn't have it. She promised him that one day it would all be worth it, but until then she wouldn't have him giving up. She said that a few years of it now would be much better than dooming himself to a lifetime of it in the future. Hard to argue with that logic.

And one day, out of nowhere, this little indie-rock group that Puck had actually seen, and enjoyed, at a party that he and Rachel had been at came in all frantic. They were supposed to be making a demo for an interested executive from some tiny label, and their guitarist had just bailed on them. Puck grabbed the sheet music they offered and stepped in without missing a beat. He had meshed so well with them musically, and they just liked him so much personally, that they invited –almost begged – him to stand in at a gig they had thought they were going to have to cancel for the next night. That one gig had turned into three-times-a-week practices and at least twice-a-week shows, resulting in him making enough money between the band's fees and the tips they always got to quit his shady studio job. He spent the next two weeks napping in Rachel's bed between classes just because he could.

Then one day the next winter, Puck burst into Quinn and Rachel's second dorm room (slightly larger than the last but still much too small for him to crash in regularly) screaming at the top of his lungs and with a huge grin on his face. His band (because that's what they were to him, now) had been offered to open for an actual rock band on an actual tour. He had sworn to Rachel that he wouldn't go if she wasn't comfortable with it – he wasn't lying to her when he told her that he was honestly more excited about the offer than anything else – but she had looked at him like he had three heads and told him there was no way he was not going on that tour.

"Hi back, Noah." Rachel let her head sink back into the pillow and gathered the blankets around her. "So?" The question dripped with curiosity, with expectation.

"So what?" He was teasing her.

"So what! Noah Elijah Puckerman, you just played your first show on a real stage, on an honest-to-God rock and roll tour. That's so exciting, Noah! I mean … you're in Cleveland!" Rachel covered her mouth with her hand and reminded herself to keep her voice down when a stuffed lamb flew at her from across the room.

Puck snorted into the phone. "Did you just hear yourself, baby? 'S Cleveland. I'm like, three hours from fuckin' Lima right now. How exciting can that be?"

"Noah! How can you say such a thing?" Rachel was speaking into the phone in her loudest whisper, hopefully just loud enough for Noah to hear and understand her, but just quiet enough to escape Quinn's wrath the next day. "Of course it's exciting. I mean, Cleveland's the home of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and … and … Oh! The Black Keys are from around there." She knew he couldn't see her, but that didn't stop her from smiling smugly into the phone.

"How do you even know this stuff, babe?" Puck chuckled on his end.

"They're Grammy winners, and it's important for me to be well-versed in all types of important music."

Puck laughed again. "You're right babe, shoulda known." He cleared his throat and softened his voice considerably before speaking again. "So little girl, how are you?" It was no secret that he was more than a little anxious about leaving her in New York.

Rachel smiled at the tenderness in his voice. She knew that he was concerned about her, but really, she was fine. She didn't want his experience to be hindered by his worry for her. "I'm fine Noah. I mean, I miss you like crazy, of course, but I'm fine. Besides, I've got Quinn here to take care of me." She giggled when she heard a muffled 'damn right' from across the room.

"Ya sure about that?" Puck's voice was gruff again. "I mean, I heard the way she was talkin' to you earlier, and if she's gonna go back to bein' all Queen Bitch Quinn again -,"

"Noah, it's after midnight, I had two dance classes today so I was sleeping like a dead person, and you called …" Rachel pulled her phone away from her ear to scroll through the call history, "five times in a row -,"

"You made me promise," he grumbled quietly.

"- I think she had had the right to be a little annoyed."

Puck was still wary of Rachel and Quinn's relationship, even after a year and a half of the girls living together. He knew from plenty of experience that while Quinn could be sweet and kind and even compassionate, she could also be conniving and manipulative and just downright mean, and her moods could flip like a switch. He hadn't completely let go of the reluctance he had initially felt when Rachel told him that she planned to room with Quinn at NYU. ( _"No, babe. Just – no. I mean, she's **Quinn**. Don't you know what that means?" "What I know, Noah, is that my little ballot box stuffing stunt did indeed keep me from NYADA as I had feared, and that while being a pregnant 15-year-old cheerleading captain makes a moving college entrance essay, it's not quite enough for the Yale admissions department. I also know that when given the choice between sharing an 8x10 box with a 'kinda friend' or a complete stranger, well, I'm going with Quinn.")_ So far there had only been the minor, expected squabbles, but Puck hadn't quite let his guard down all the way, even if Rachel was an open book to the other girl, even going so far as to call Quinn her 'best friend' on occasion.

"So now, tell me all about your night."

**_I find it very, very easy to be true  
I find myself alone when each day is through  
Yes, I'll admit that I'm a fool for you  
Because you're mine, I walk the line _ **

"Hey baby."

"Hi Noah! How was your show tonight? Was it wonderful? Are you and your bandmates still getting along well? You know, being cooped up like that all together can cause disturbances in even the most stable relationships, so I wouldn't be at all surprised if you've been having little quarrels simply because of the close proximity. Don't worry though, I know how good you guys are together, it will pass, I'm sure." Rachel stopped for just a second to catch her breath. "Noah," She almost whined into the phone as she dropped onto her bed, propping her back against the wall and pulling the blankets over her legs, "come on, tell me about the show."

Puck laughed, knowing it would do no good to point out to her that she hadn't actually given him a chance to tell her anything yet. "Well, somebody's chipper tonight."

"Oh, yes," Rachel smiled, fingering her comforter between her thumb and forefinger, "well, I was finishing up that English paper that's due later this week, so once 10 rolled around and I was still working, I decided that I'd just make some coffee. That way, I could finish my paper _and_ actually be awake when you called for once."

"Baby," Puck chuckled, "there was so much wrong with that sentence. First, you're only sposed to work all night on stuff that's like, due tomorrow. Second, babe, you're kinda scary when you drink coffee in the mornings, you _really_ shouldn't be drinkin' it at night. Finally, Rach, I don't have to –,"

"So," she cut him off, refusing to let him tell her he could stop calling her after his shows, as he did at least once every couple days. "Where are you tonight? Still in Tennessee?"

"Mmhmm. Memphis. Who's fr-,"

"B.B. King, and well, blues in general, but he is definitely one of the most notable."

"Didn't even let me finish my question!" Puck tried to sound offended, but he knew she could hear the amusement in his voice. He had come to love this little game that they played. Outside of simply getting to hear her voice, it was probably his favorite part of their usually short, often disjointed middle-of-the-night conversations. Even on the nights when she was completely wiped, she managed to stay on the phone and coherent long enough to name at least one significant musician who was from wherever it was he had performed that night. (He had thought that she would be stumped when he got down into the southeast, but his girl knew her country and southern rock. Who'da guessed?)

"Well come on Noah, last night Nashville and now Memphis; Tennessee is just too easy. Oh!" She sat up a little straighter on the bed and put a finger in the air, not caring that he couldn't see her through the phone. "Just remember Noah, the game isn't just people who are _from_ your city, but those who got their starts there. That is often much more influential. Just think about me – when I'm famous and hugely successful, I'll be _Broadway_ _Star_ Rachel Berry, not _Lima, Ohio_ Rachel Berry."

"You're right baby. Didn't mean to insult your intelligence. Or your New York-ness." He smirked as he fell onto the tour bus couch.

"It's very quiet there Noah. Is everything okay?" Rachel furrowed her brow at the thought that something might not be just right. She knew that Noah worried about her being 'alone' in New York (because no matter how many times she told him that she had Quinn right there whenever she needed her, it didn't seem to make a difference), but she worried about him too. She worried about him travelling all over the country without what she considered to be a truly strong support network. Sure, she had no problem with his band mates – she liked them, really – but they reminded her of the people Noah had hung out with during his early high school years. It wasn't that she didn't trust him with them, she absolutely did, but she worried about what would happen the first time Noah had a bad day or he and Rachel got into an argument and the only people he had around him were those guys. She also worried about what would happen the first time he and his band mates got into an argument over something more significant than who drank the last beer or whether or not the set list needed to be rearranged and she or one of their closer friends wasn't there to help him work through it.

"Yeah, everything's great. We don't got Little Rock till Friday, so since we got a day off the guys decided to spend the night here and head out tomorrow. Beale Street was a'callin'."

"Oh." Rachel chewed her bottom lip for a second, confused. "Then … well, I still don't understand why it's so quiet. I mean, from what I understand, Beale Street is _never_ quiet, but least so at this time of night."

"Silly girl." Rachel could see the way he smirked, his eyes closed and his head shaking before it dropped back onto the back of … well, whatever it was he was sitting on. She loved, and kind of hated, that she could see his every move even though he was 1100 miles away. "It's quiet 'cause I didn't go."

Puck waited while Rachel stayed quiet for a beat. "I'm on the bus." He clarified.

"Oh. Why … why didn't you go out with your friends?"

He could hear the confusion, and a little bit of worry, tingeing her voice. He hated that worry. "Just didn't feel like it," he shrugged. He waited again, but still she said nothing. He should've known it wouldn't be that easy. "Ok baby, I'm gonna explain this to you, but you gotta promise to stay quiet and listen 'till I'm all the way done, 'cause you're probably gonna get the wrong idea but you gotta hear me out. Okay?"

"Umm … yeah, no, of course. Of course I'll hear you out Noah." Rachel glanced across the room to where Quinn sat on her bed with her laptop balanced on her thighs and earbuds in her ears.

"Rachel, I love you. Like, seriously. You couldn't _pay_ me to fu-screw this thing up."

"I'm not hearing what there is for me to get upset about here, Noah." Rachel giggled a little into the phone.

"Babe," his voice was soft, but strained. Kind of a … tender growl. A warning.

"Right," she replied sheepishly, "sorry."

"Anyway, there's no way I'd mess up what we have. I may be kinda dumb, but I'm not stupid." He heard her start to say something, but she caught herself before any actual words came out. "But Rach, the thing is, I know we're not 'rock stars,' by any means. But we're travelin' with 'em, and actin' like 'em, and since we're just the openin' act, we're like, more approachable, or whatever than the _real_ rock stars, so in a lotta ways, to the fans, especially the drunk ones, we're even better." Puck stopped for a minute to take a deep breath, knowing that the next part was where he would have to be careful. "And the girls, well, they're kinda everywhere. And girls who show up to our shows, and 'specially the ones that show up at the bars and shit afterward, they usually got one goal in mind – baggin' a rock star. Doesn't matter that we're just, like, the little brothers taggin' along on big brothers' good time, or whatever."

Puck paused again to take a sip of the beer he had opened when he first got back onto the bus. He could legit hear her breathing, hard, and not in the good way. Not a good sign. _Tread lightly here, Puckerman._ "Now baby," he made his voice as soft as possible, trying to remind her that she was dealing with Noah here and not Puck. He was _always_ Noah when it came to her now. Sure, Puck made an appearance now and then when it came to stupid guy stuff, or Quinn, but seriously, he so much as heard Rachel's name and Puck tucked tail and ran, leaving only Noah behind. "I already told ya, I ain't doin' anything to mess with us. We're epic. We're _endgame_ , baby. But me bein' in that atmosphere – all those girls, drunk and half-naked – it ain't good."

"Right." Her voice was very quiet, but he still heard it. "Because you're afraid if you expose yourself to the temptation …"

Rachel's voice trailed off as she thought about what Noah was saying. She supposed that she should be happy that he was keeping himself out of those situations, but she couldn't help but wish that he could be in those situations without actually _being_ tempted. Quinn still had her earbuds in, and Rachel was being careful to keep her voice low, so she was sure her friend hadn't heard her. But Quinn must have noticed that something was up, because while she was still listening to her computer and typing on it half-heartedly, her eyes were fixed on her roommate.

"Rachel." This time Puck didn't bother softening his voice, and it was unmistakably a growl. "First of all, you promised. I get to talk now." He got quiet and heard her hum her agreement, and possibly an apology. "Second, I didn't say that. Although, really, I guess you're right, but not in the way you think. I worked too damn hard to get you. Fuckin' Bar Refaeli could be in one of those bars and it wouldn't make a difference to me." He knew his language was slipping out of 'Noah' territory and more into the 'Puck' realm, but he didn't have the time or energy to think about that at the moment. "I ain't been _tempted_ to lay a pinkie finger on another girl since I started gettin' to put my hands on you. Even when it was just your hands and face and shit you gave me access to." He had to stop himself for a few seconds there, because, in spite of himself, he started thinking about getting his hands on his girl, and, well, he had to breathe through that for a little bit. He could've sworn he heard her whimper a little, which made him think she was probably thinking about the same thing, and that just made it even worse.

"But yeah Rach," he continued once he had regained his composure, "I guess you could say I don't wanna be tempted. 'Cause some 'a those bitches just don't get 'no.'" Yeah, his mouth was full-on 'Puck' now, but the message was all 'Noah,' so that had to count for something, right? "And I'm afraid if I was out there, some girl'd come up, and just start talkin' and not listenin', and then I'd do somethin' I'd regret. Somethin' that would get me kicked outta the bar, or the band, or hell, arrested, even. And if that happened, I'dve ended up fuckin' up what we got goin' here even when all I was tryin' to do in the first place was avoid that. Ain't worth it baby. I got all the beer and all the girl I need on this bus, so this is where I'll stay." He waited for almost a full minute, but she didn't say anything. "Alright baby, I'm done now. You can talk."

Rachel cleared her throat before she said anything. "Right. I … I … I love you too, Noah." And that was enough for him.

**_As sure as night is dark and day is light  
I keep you on my mind both day and night  
And happiness I've known proves that it's right  
Because you're mine, I walk the line _ **

"Hey baby."

"Mmm, Noah." Rachel's response was groggy as she rubbed at the now-tender spot on her forehead. She was _really_ going to have to stop leaving her phone on Quinn's side of the room when she went to sleep.

Puck could tell she was half-asleep still, possibly more, so while it may not have been one of his shining moments, he jumped at his opportunity. "New Orleans," he spat as soon as his name was all the way out of her mouth. He loved this game they played, and Rachel was surprisingly good at it. Like, he expected her to be good (well, as soon as he figured out it was going to be a regular thing anyway, neither of them had exactly planned this out), but he also expected her to have been stumped at least once over the past several weeks, and so far, she'd had an answer for every night, every city. But after that little stunt she had pulled in Shreveport a few nights back, he didn't feel even a little bad about throwing the question at her before she was fully awake. See, he'd been impressed a few times back in Kentucky and West Virginia and the Carolinas, but Shreveport, yeah that was just too much. Rachel and Quinn had been at Kurt's when he called, watching some marathon of some show only his friends could love, and when he told her where he was, she hesitated for a few seconds, and he thought he had her, but then she spouted off with not only Trace Adkins and that guy even _he_ had to look up to know was from Brooks & Dunn ( _What the hell kind of name is **Kix**?_ ), but then half a second later with Terry Bradshaw, and when the hell did football players come into this? She cheated. He _knows_ she cheated, because he knows Evans was there, and right before she nearly blew his mind by throwing the former Steeler at him, he heard Quinn's giggling and Rachel's shushing and a male voice he didn't recognize that had to be Q's new guy Alex.

"Louis Armstrong." Her voice was slurred and sleep-addled, but her response was instant. "Or Wynton Marsalis, if we're trying to be more modern."

"Dammit, baby. You're not even really awake!"

"Come on Noah," her voice was starting to clear and he could hear the blankets rustling, "it's New Orleans. Surely you didn't think you could get me on that one, asleep or not."

Okay, so maybe he had hoped to. Whatever.

"So why did the Ice Quinn answer the phone?" Best not to dwell, she would just get on some big rampage about how he should know better than to try and trick her and blah blah blah. A subject change was really for the best.

"Well, I'm still recovering from staying up way too late and spending the night at Kurt's two nights ago, and yesterday was mine and Quinn's really long, weekly theater class, then today was ballet and tap, and -,"

"No babe, I know your schedule, I kinda expected _Quinn_ to answer when you didn't pick up the first time I called. But why did 'Ice Quinn – Bitch Extraordinaire' answer the phone? Hadn't had the extreme displeasure of hearing from her in a long time."

"Oh Noah, was she rude to you? I'm sorry, but if it's any consolation, at least _you_ won't be going to your show tomorrow night with a knot on your forehead most likely bearing an imprint reading 'Otter Box.'"

"What the fuck, baby!" And that shit right there was numero uno why he hadn't wanted Rachel rooming with Quinn. Over a year and a half of them living together and being roomies or bffs or besties or whatever stupid girlie term they chose to use on a given day, and in one night Quinn manages to give him a bitching to rival her pregnancy days _and_ brand Rachel with a cell phone. Not okay. "Put Fabray on the phone. Now."

Rachel glanced across the room at her roommate. Quinn sat on her bed, her laptop on her thighs illuminating her face and playing what sounded like … Metallica? Really? And she shouldn't be able to tell that at all, except even with the earbuds in her ears, Quinn had the volume turned up so loudly that Rachel could make out heavy bass and screeching guitar riffs and even and occasional word or two. "No Noah, like I said, I'm sorry she was rude to you, but it's okay, really. She's had a … a rough day." Rachel held the phone to her ear with one hand and played with the ear of the stuffed rabbit that resided on her bed with the other as she spoke quietly to her boyfriend 1,300 miles away and stared at her best friend not even 13 feet away.

Puck snorted; whatever Rachel's idea of a 'rough day' was, it wasn't an excuse for Quinn to treat him or his girl that way. "Oh yeah, and what's a rough day for Princess Quinn Fabray? A guy not fallin' all over himself to like, do her bidding or whatever?"

"Well, yes, I suppose you could say it was guy problems."

"Yeah, well, she still doesn't get to treat you like shit. Seriously, her and Alex only been together, what, a couple weeks? How bad could it even be?" Puck took a long draw from the beer he had just pulled from the bus's small fridge and fell onto the couch, propping his shoulders on one arm and his feet on the other. The way this conversation was going, he was glad the guys decided to go out to party. If Beale Street had kept them busy until three am, they wouldn't make their way in from Bourbon Street until daylight, easy.

"It's not Alex." Rachel's eyes never left Quinn. She knew there was no way Quinn could hear her, and she wasn't paying any attention to her anyway, but she felt anxious, and her nerves wouldn't let her take her eyes off her friend.

"But you said it was about a guy, and far as I know Alex is the only guy she's seein'," he paused to think. "Alex _is_ the only guy she's seein', right?"

"Of course Noah," Rachel sounded almost indignant at the suggestion, "but you know, not all problems with guys have to be romantic." She waited, but he didn't respond. "Think about it, just because you are my only boyfriend doesn't mean you are the only man in my life."

"Fine." He stopped to think for a second about the other men in Rachel's life (and to grind his teeth a little at the way that sounded in his head) and then to translate that to Quinn's life. "Okay, well, _I_ sure as shit didn't do anything to her, and I know all this bitchiness isn't about Kurt. So what, is she having problems with her -," Puck froze for a second with the beer bottle halfway to his lips, then lowered it to the floor in front of the couch and let his head fall back onto the arm. "Oh."

"Yeah. He was just, here, this morning, waiting outside our building with coffee and bagels like it was just a normal father-daughter visit."

"What the hell did he want?" Puck was still pissed that Quinn was taking this stuff out on him and Rachel, but he couldn't help but be concerned too. Add that to the list of ways Rachel like, made him a better person or what-the-fuck-ever.

"I don't know, really. I guess he left that _woman_ he'd been with, and he tried to get Judy to talk to him but she slammed the door in his face and wouldn't return his calls." Rachel laughed humorlessly into the phone. "Apparently he was deluded enough to think that Quinn would help him get her to listen. He asked -," she lowered her voice when she saw Quinn shifting on her bed, "he asked about -," Rachel froze for a second, her heart in her throat, when Quinn yanked the plug of the earbuds out of the computer, but she only moved her laptop to the floor and plugged the earbuds into her iPod before wiggling under the covers and turning her back to Rachel. "He asked about Beth."

Puck bristled at the sound of his biological daughter's name. He and Quinn had given up the right to be her parents when she was born, knowing it was the right thing to do, but Russell Fabray had given up any rights he'd had long before that – right about the time he kicked his pregnant 15-year-old daughter out of his house. "What'd she say?" He was really trying not to let his anger come through in his voice, this had absolutely nothing to do with Rachel, but his teeth were clenched and he knew his voice was harsher than he intended it to be.

"Well, she told him to – and I take full blame for this for causing her to spend so much time around you the past couple years – fuck off."

Puck may have spit beer all over himself. And the couch. And a little bit on the floor. "Baby, I," he laughed, "I'm proud of Q and all, and I'll even forgive her for bein' a bitch to me on the phone earlier – even though she's still not off the hook for beanin' you with your own cell phone – but, you know you just said 'fuck,' right? I mean, the only other time I ever heard you say that was when I -,"

"Noah!" Rachel hissed, her eyes darting to Quinn's bed even though she knew her roommate was asleep, or at the very least deaf to the world thanks to her iPod and Adele (because apparently she had moved on from the angry music to the sad stuff). "These are not appropriate circumstances for a conversation like this."

"You're right babe. We'll save that one for when I come home. Or at least the next time I can pull out my laptop and log in to Skype. Ya know, maybe you can show me -,"

"NOAH!" Okay, that wasn't even a hiss; it was something different, something in a league of its own.

Puck couldn't say anything for a minute, partly because he could just picture the 10 different shades of red covering his girlfriend's face at that moment and it had him nearly doubled over in laughter, but also because his comments, while intended to get her worked up, had him picturing something else as well. And that 'something else' had him plenty worked up too, in a totally different way. "I was thinkin' about you today," he breathed out once he could finally speak again.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean, I think about you every day, pretty much all the time, but I thought about you, like, _extra_ today. We were on the way to the stadium to do sound checks and we passed a theater – Jackson somethin'-or-other. And all I could think was, 'Rach would hate that place.'" He laughed quietly into the phone, remembering the theater. "'Cause I kept thinkin' about how you always say that any place that is a home to the arts should look like a work of art itself, and this place was just a big concrete building with way too many windows. Looked like a convention center or something."

"Oh." It didn't make sense, but Puck could actually _hear_ her frown, and he could just see her nose all scrunched up the way it did every time she watched him take the first bite out of a particularly greasy cheeseburger. "That does sound awful."

"Yeah, but then we got to the corner, and there was one of those big-ass posters on the side of a bus stop, and it was for 'West Side Story,' and Maria looked all wrong 'cause you could tell by her eyebrows that she was naturally a blonde and the picture was of her and Tony but there wasn't any, like, chemistry even in the picture, and -," he could hear her laughing; he didn't think she was even trying to hide it, "- Oh shut up. I spend way too much time with you and Fabray. When I come home I gotta get some guy friends," he grumbled before cutting her off again just as she started to speak. "And no, Kurt doesn't count. Blaine, sometimes, Kurt, never. Anyway, if I can talk for two minutes without bein' interrupted by my squirrelly little girlfriend," he waited for the giggles to stop. "That Maria on the poster totally sucked, but it made me think of you in that blue dress singin' with Warbler and you were so freakin' amazing, and then I thought of you in that pink dress singin' with Satan. God I loved you in that pink dress – you just looked so girlie and soft and just _pretty_."

Rachel let her free hand come up to rest over her heart. She kind of wanted to cry, but in the good way. Noah had no real reason to remember anything about her in that play – they weren't even together at the time – but he did, and that kind of made her love him even more. "Noah, I can't believe you remember that."

Puck only shrugged. "I remember a lotta things, Rach. Makes me happy."

**_You've got a way to keep me on your side  
You give me cause for love that I can't hide  
For you I know I'd even try to turn the tide  
Because you're mine, I walk the line _ **

"Hey baby."

"Hi Noah."

Puck didn't like the way Rachel's voice sounded. It was so quiet, and not like the normal kind of I-just-woke-up quiet, or the Quinn's-asleep-on-the-other-side-of-the-room-and-I'm-still-running-for-roommate-of-the-year quiet. This was a sad kind of quiet, a quiet he hadn't heard in a really long time, maybe since the previous summer when she and Kurt had that huge fight and he un-invited her to his and Blaine's apartment-warming party (screw that, Puck was still invited, and he _made_ her get dressed and dragged her to the party, where he and Blaine then locked them in the bedroom until they made up, a grand total of three minutes and 3,000 'I'm sorry' tears later).

"I'm in Austin …" he knew that the sentence sounded almost like a question, and he had no idea if it would work or not, but at the moment, their game was the only thing he could think of to bring his normal Rachel out.

"Right. Umm," okay, that wasn't the best start. And it had already taken her longer to answer than it had in any of the other cities. "Wow, harder than I expected. Okay, country superstar George Strait is from that general area. And the rock band ZZ Top is from Houston, which isn't Austin, obviously, but it's not far. And then, the city is known as the 'live music capital of the world,' so while that doesn't exactly count toward this little game that I've started, it's certainly a positive as far as you and the band and your career are concerned." Rachel took a beat before saying anything else. "Okay, Noah, you win, I suppose. You've finally stumped me."

Puck climbed onto the tour bus and dropped into the swivel recliner right in front of the sleeping compartments. He sighed as he propped his elbows on his knees and let his forehead fall into his free hand. "Ya know babe," he scrubbed his hand over his face before letting his chin rest in his palm, "why don't we call this one a draw."

"Oh. Well. If that's what you want then sure."

"Jesus, baby," he didn't mean to growl at her, really, but this was getting ridiculous. He pushed his upper body back into the chair so that the back reclined and his feet were pushed off the floor by the footrest. "What's up with you tonight? Is Quinn bein' a bitch again, or did Kurt do somethin'? I know you two were sposed to have dinner tonight."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Noah." So far, Rachel hadn't moved from the position she was in when she answered the phone. But finally, she pushed herself up off her back and into a sitting position, clutching Mr. Floppy-Ears in her lap. She could feel Quinn's eyes on her from across the room, but she ignored her friend.

"C'mon Rach. Don't do this, okay. I know you better than anybody, and _this_ is not my Rachel. So please tell me what's bothering you, 'cause I know it's somethin'." Puck clutched the phone to his ear with one hand while the other nervously drew random patterns over the arm of the chair.

"I just – it's …," Rachel hesitated, glancing over at Quinn before finally sighing sadly. "Six weeks is a long time, Noah, that's all."

Puck's breath left him in a _whoosh_. "That's it baby? That's what this is?" He didn't mean to make it sound like that was nothing, because _fuck_ he missed her too. But while she told him every day (usually twice, once each time they talked) that she missed him, Rachel was always still _Rachel_ : cheerful and up-beat and just so damn optimistic. This girl on the other end of the phone tonight was half Rachel, at best.

"Well, yes. I'm sorry, Noah. I know I'm being silly." Rachel heard a grunt from the other side of the room and turned her head just in time to see Quinn's eyes returning from the ceiling to their natural position as she shook her head. It may have been too dark in the room to actually read her lips, but Rachel could read Quinn's expression nonetheless, and she was sure that both were saying, _'Stop apologizing.'_

"No baby, you're not. Well, yeah, I mean, ya are silly a lot of the time, but not about this. I miss you too Rach, so fuckin' much." Puck stopped talking for a second when the bus door opened and his drummer walked in, but he just nodded once at his band mate and the other man smiled and nodded back in understanding before backing back down the steps. "But, ya just – ya gotta tell me this stuff, ya know? I mean, not that that's not a good enough reason to be sad, I get it Rach, I really do, but ya scared me a little bit. Like, I thought somethin' _happened_. Ya oughta know by now you can't shut me out, so don't even try, k?"

"Right Noah, I'm sorry. I've just had a hard day."

"Well, ya got my ear now, so let's hear it."

"I hate to -,"

"Rachel."

"Right, ok. Well, I did have dinner with Kurt. Kurt _and_ Blaine, and Quinn _and_ Alex, to be exact. And it was a lovely dinner, really it was, and you _know_ how much I love Blaine, and Alex is quite possibly the perfect guy for Quinn. And I'm happy for my friends, of course. It's just that every time Blaine said something somewhat inappropriate but funny and Kurt grabbed his hand, or every time Quinn mentioned some recent accomplishment – like her 'A' on her English final – and Alex reached over to twirl her hair between his fingers, all I could see was us, and then all I could think was that that hasn't been us for six weeks and it won't be us for another four weeks." Rachel could hear Puck's long, low sigh. "Please Noah, you have to understand, I am so so happy for you. And I'm so proud of you I can't even stand it. All the rest of those guys can't stand it either," she laughed lightly, the sound music to Puck's ears (and yeah, he knows what a cliché that is, but whatever – they're all about music). "You may not have been here, but I gave them a run for their coupley-money all on my own."

Puck laughed. He didn't doubt that.

"Anyway, enough of that Noah." Rachel was trying really hard to get past her mood, her sadness. It wasn't fair to him for her to be that way. "As always, I want to hear about you. How was the show?"

He could tell that she was trying, for him, but he didn't want her to have to try. He just wanted his girl to be happy again. "Check your e-mail babe." He knew she hadn't gotten it yet. For one thing, _if_ she had even waited for him to call her, she would have deafened him as soon as she answered the phone. For another, he had only sent the e-mail minutes before calling. He wanted it to be a surprise.

"Noah," she whined, "I want to hear about your tour!"

"I know babe. Just check your e-mail. And don't tell me you already shut down your computer or whatever, I know you're never more than 12 inches from that iTouch of yours, and your dorm's got like, the best WiFi ever." He heard her huff, but he also heard the rustle of blankets and the sound of her nightstand drawer sliding open, so he just waited.

"What is this Noah?" Rachel just looked at the e-mail in confusion. There was no message, only a link to a YouTube video. Surely he didn't think this was the time for one of his and Sam's stupid videos of idiot guys getting hit in the crotch with random things.

"Just watch it, babe."

Rachel clicked the link and was redirected to a video titled 'our boy singin' for his girl.' "Oh my gosh, Noah, is that you?" She squinted at the small screen; the man on the middle of the stage was unmistakably her boyfriend. Even if the mohawk hadn't given him away, his stance – relaxed yet confident, with his hands resting lightly on the body of his guitar and his shoulders drawn down and forward just slightly (and it really wasn't necessary to go into the way his jeans just kind of hung on his hips like they were made for him) – was more than enough to tell her that was absolutely Noah Puckerman.

"Yeah," Puck scrubbed a hand over his Mohawk and his face burned. He'd spent the last six weeks playing on stage in front of thousands, but with Rachel it was different somehow. She was his biggest fan, not just with his music but in every aspect of his life, and it kind of freaked him out. He was a little terrified of letting her down.

She still hadn't clicked 'play.' "I didn't know you'd been singing, Noah." She frowned a little.

"Yeah, well, it's not exactly a normal thing. We had a little crisis in Jackson -,"

"Jackson? That was over a week ago." Now she frowned a lot. She asked him about his show every night, and he'd never mentioned singing.

"Yeah, I – I wanted to surprise you. Hunter shot the video, and I couldn't get his lazy ass to upload it 'till today." His voice dropped a little. "Sorry baby."

Oh. So maybe that wasn't so bad. And when her badass boyfriend played sheepish, well, then she was just kind of screwed.

"Anyway, we had a little crisis -,"

"Crisis?"

"Yeah, umm, one of the main band's guys started in with the partying a little early, and well, they lost him. So they just sent me out there with a mic and my guitar like there was supposed to be two openers all along so I could buy 'em some extra time. Anyway, will you please just watch the video, Rach?"

"Right."

" _Hey everybody. How's it goin?" The cheers seemed louder somehow when he was up there alone. "Awesome. Anyway," he started plucking out the intro to the song, "my name's Noah Puckerman. Don't worry; I don't expect you to know who I am." He chuckled at the laughs floating up to him. It was kind of nice being back on stage just him, a microphone, and a guitar. "I know what you're thinkin' – 'Johnny Cash is awesome, but doesn't this idiot know he's in Jackson?'" There were the laughs again. "But see, 'Jackson' needs a girl to really work, and I don't got one. Well," he chuckled, "that's not true. I got a girl, I got the **best** girl." There were a lot of cheers at that, and a few less-than-happy female faces in the front row. "She's just not here. She's got her own kind of awesome goin' on back home, so I couldn't ask her to drop all that to run around and play rock star with me." He was starting on the intro for the third time, but other than those sorority girls up front, no one seemed to mind. "Anyway, since I can't sing 'Jackson' without the girl, but we've all agreed that the Man in Black is the shit, it's real convenient that he's got another song that's perfect when I'm on the road and my girl's 1,000 miles away." When he finished his fourth run through the intro, he finally launched into the first verse._

Rachel watched through silent tears, Quinn watching her every second, as Puck sang Johnny Cash's 'Walk the Line,' from beginning to end. She was pretty sure he had no idea his band mate was recording him from offstage, but that just made it that much better. "Noah, you're – that was – I don't even know what to say."

"Did it make you happy?"

"You have no idea," Rachel wiped the tears from her cheeks with her fingertips.

"Then you don't need to say anything. That's all I was looking for."

The couple talked for another 20 minutes, Rachel finally getting Puck to tell her about that night's show, before she started to get quiet again and started stifling yawns. "Alright baby, I think it's your bedtime now. You feelin' better?"

"Yes, yes of course." Rachel hoped he didn't hear the way her voice cracked a little. "And your song, your video, they're lovely. Thank you for that. I love you." Her voice was almost a whisper by the end.

"Love you too, baby. G'night." Puck hung up before either of them could say anything else, knowing it would only go downhill from there.

Quinn had been watching Rachel for the past several minutes, knowing the conversation would be drawing to a close. "Come here Rach." She pulled down the blankets and opened her arms as Rachel climbed out of her own bed.

"I just -," Rachel choked out.

"I know," Quinn pulled the covers over her friend's body.

"- miss him -,"

"I know," Quinn wrapped her into a hug and stroked her hair.

"- SO MUCH."

"I know." Quinn slid down into the bed and rested her cheek on Rachel's head, finding the position that the girls would stay in until Quinn's alarm went off at seven the next morning.

**_I keep a close watch on this heart of mine  
I keep my eyes wide open all the time  
I keep the ends out for the tie that binds  
Because you're mine, I walk the line_ **

"Hey baby."

"Hi Noah." Rachel knew she had been tired that night, but she must have really been out of it. She didn't even remember answering the phone, or Quinn shaking her violently or throwing things at her head to make her answer it, for that matter. But she must have, because that was definitely Noah's voice in her ear. "Where are you tonight?" She thought as hard as she could in her half-asleep state, her nose and forehead scrunching in concentration."Phoenix maybe, or Tulsa? I'm sorry, I can't remember the exact order. Or wait, are you still in Texas? I think Austin was the last one there, but I'm not sure. I'm sorry Noah, can you just tell me?"

Puck smirked at the tiny girl in front of him clutching her tattered stuffed rabbit to her chest. He wasn't exactly sure which part of this situation he found most amusing - the fact that she was concentrating so hard, even in her sleepy state, to remember where he was supposed to be, or the fact that she still obviously believed that she was talking to him on the phone. He gently lowered himself to his knees beside the bed, careful to brace himself only on the nightstand and not on her bed, not wanting to wake her fully just yet. "New York," he said simply, his smirk transforming to a smile as the crease in her forehead deepened.

"What? I'm sorry Noah, you must be breaking up," he actually had to shove a fist over his mouth to stifle his laughter. "I didn't understand you. Tell me one more time?"

"I said," he leaned forward so that his nose was only an inch from hers, "I'm in New York." He _loved_ that smile, the one that broke out over her face just then.

"Rachel Berry," she murmured, still smiling. "Wait," he smirked again when he saw her tense, her knuckles going white on the rabbit, "New York?"

"NYU, specifically," he leaned forward and rested his forearms on the mattress as he whispered to her, bringing his mouth inches from her ear and letting his breath fan out over her cheek.

He almost regretted the new proximity, partly because he didn't get to see the look on her face when she realized what he was saying and her eyes flew open, but mostly because of the shriek that he was sure had just pierced his left eardrum. Rachel quickly discarded the stuffed animal that had, apparently, been acting as his substitute for the past several weeks and threw her arms around his neck, causing him to lose his balance and fall backward, wincing when his ass landed squarely on the heels of his boots.

"Hey baby," he said again once he had settled himself into a sitting position and she had finally stopped dropping sloppy kisses all over his face long enough to pull back and really look at him, her hands cupping his cheeks.

"Hey back." Rachel squirmed a little on his lap until her legs were wrapped around his waist and her arms draped comfortably over his shoulders. "What are you doing here?" She let her fingernails scratch lightly over the back of his neck and head, making his eyes roll back a little.

"Well," he started, moaning a little when one of her hands snuck up and over his head to run all the way through his mohawk from front to back ( _Don't hate, thing's badass and **super** rock and roll. Age doesn't matter.)_ "I missed my girl." He smirked at her, "Is that okay with you?"

Rachel smacked a hard, loud kiss on his lips. "It's more than okay. But, you weren't supposed to have your break for almost another four weeks. What about the band?"

Puck shrugged. "They'll survive. We picked up another opener after that b.s. in Jackson, so their guy's gonna take my place until the break, then they're gonna come back and try to find somebody else to finish out the tour."

"So … you're not going to go back at all? But Noah -,"

"But nothin', baby. You're stuck with me. I ain't goin' nowhere now."

"Oh, Noah." Rachel sighed and buried her face into his neck, placing butterfly kisses there for a moment before coming back up. "Words cannot even express how happy I am to have you back home with me, really," one of her hands slid from where it rested on the back of his shoulder to his cheek, while the other tightened around his shoulders, pulling her body flush against his. "But I … I don't want you giving everything up for me. I mean, you already came to New York so we could be together while I pursue my dreams, I don't want you giving up yours for me as well."

Puck didn't reply at first, instead sliding one hand from the small of her back up to tangle in her hair and pull her face toward his. Then, while his tongue was sliding across hers and tickling ever so slightly at the roof of her mouth (because, while she complained about it, the little whimpers coming from the back of her throat told him that she secretly loved it), he pressed his feet flat onto the floor so that his thighs provided a wall for her to lean back on. Finally, he braced his free hand on the edge of the nightstand and slid his other hand back out of her hair and down to the small of her back to pull her body as tight against him as possible and support her weight. He pulled back from the kiss and let out a quiet grunt as he used his feet and the leverage provided by the night stand to push them up so that he was standing, then turned and dropped onto the bed so that he was sitting upright, facing Quinn's side of the room, and Rachel was again straddling his lap.

"Rachel," he removed both of his hands from her body and trailed his fingertips over her face – across her cheekbones, along her jaw, and even down her neck until finally he let them ghost over her shoulders and down her arms to twist his fingers with hers. "Baby, as long as I got this," he squeezed her hands in his, "I ain't givin' up a damn thing."

"Noah," her voice was nothing more than a shuddering, choked whisper as she leaned forward to rest her forehead against his.

"Yeah, I know," he rolled his eyes, "I keep goin' like that, you're gonna have to switch to Santana's team on account 'a the vagina I already started growin'."

Rachel groaned and pulled her hand from his to smack his shoulder, moving one leg to climb off his lap until he put a hand on her thigh, gently but forcefully, to keep her in place.

"Nuh uh, I ain't finished. I may'a sounded like a complete girl, or Finn," Puck laughed when her eyes rolled to find the ceiling, "just then, but that doesn't make it any less true." He smiled at the way she cocked her head to one side and studied him, her eyes flitting across his face from feature to feature. He pulled her hands behind him so that they wrapped around his waist then settled his own on her thighs, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles over the skin exposed by her sleep shirt (which looked suspiciously like the Van Halen shirt he had 'lost' just before going on tour). "I love music Rach. Like, I legit love it as much as you do. And yeah, makin' a livin' through music – that's my dream. No doubt. But all this 'rock star'-"

 _Air quotes, really, Puckerman?_ _Been away from the girl six weeks and still can't shake her influence._

"- shit, all that bein' in the spotlight, and a different city every night, and bein' away from home, and you, for weeks at a time, baby that is _not_ my dream. I realized that even though I freakin' hated that sketchy ass studio that I worked at last year, I actually loved the work. I mean, I was gettin' paid to play my guitar, but I wasn't really _performin'_ ya know?" He watched Rachel nod her head tentatively, like maybe she got it, but then again, maybe not. "I mean, it was like, if I missed a chord or somethin', which I didn't do, 'cause I'm just good like that, then we just scratched it and started again, ya know?" She nodded her head again, more forcefully this time. "And really, I liked performin' in the bars around here in the city, all low-key and stuff. It was just that when we went on tour, everything changed. It wasn't just about the music anymore, there was just so much stupid shit and I kinda hated it. And then when I heard you cryin' on the phone last night -,"

"I … I wasn't … You knew?" Rachel buried her head in his shoulder and mumbled into his shirt.

"Course I knew baby." Puck ran one hand up and down her back. "I _know_ you." He placed a soft kiss to her hair before continuing. "Now, like I was sayin' before you interrupted me, _again,"_ he mock-glared at her, "I'd been thinkin' for a little while now that that whole thing wasn't for me, and the way I just wanted to punch somethin' when you could barely say 'goodbye' last night and ya made those little whimperin' noises – and not the good kind, you _know_ I love those," as if to prove it, he leaned forward and nipped at her neck, eliciting those very sounds from her. "Well, that just sealed the deal. So, I told the guys, and they were kinda pissy at first but then pretty cool about it," he shrugged, "and I took a taxi to the airport, where I paid out the nose for a ticket just to have, I dunno, a six hour layover in Atlanta. Ya know, I'm pretty sure they could fit, like, 952 normal airports into the Atlanta airport. That place is hell on Earth. Anyway, now here I am. I already called the warehouse and I think Bill almost cried when I said I wanted my job back, and I'm gonna go tomorrow while you're in class -,"

"Finals."

"-Takin' your test, then, and talk to the registrar at BMCC about goin' back in the fall. I think," he felt his face burning and he kind of wanted to throw something because the Puckasaurus didn't _do_ blushing, but the only thing within his reach was Rachel, and he wasn't going to throw her, unless it was down onto her bed – or his bed, or his couch, or once the bed of his truck – but that had to wait, 'cause he really needed to get through this spiel. "Well, I think I want to look into music production, ya know, after I play in the studios – _real_ ones – for a while to get some experience and get my foot in the door, and maybe still just pick up some bar gigs on the weekends to get my live music fix." He shifted his weight to keep his center of balance when Rachel shifted her own weight back on his legs and moved her hands to rest them on his chest and push her body away from him. It was dark in the room, but he could tell she was just kind of staring back at him. "D'you … I mean, is that something you think I could do, Rach?"

"Noah, I think that sounds like something you could not only do, but something you would excel at. That is an amazing, _amazing_ plan."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." That was all Rachel could get out before he grabbed her face and sealed his lips to hers, holding her there until they both eventually found themselves lying on the bed facing one another.

"I missed this," Puck finally said, "your bed, and your blankets, and -,"

"Well of course you did." Rachel giggled. "I can only imagine that sleeping on that tour bus must have been awful."

"Nah, it was actually pretty nice." He smirked when Rachel pulled her 'I don't understand' face. "I mean, my mattress was super cozy, and the hum and the rock of the bus when we were moving – I actually slept pretty great."

"Oh." Rachel actually sounded kind of disappointed.

"But ya missed the point, babe. I said I missed _your_ bed, and _your_ blankets." An almost evil grin spread across his face as he moved to hover over her, one forearm on either side of her shoulders. "And I _know_ you missed me. I mean, come on, no _way_ that furball was a good substitute for me." He smirked and jerked his head in the general direction of Quinn's bed, the direction in which Rachel had flung her rabbit when she jumped off the bed and into his arms.

"I don't know, Noah," Rachel smirked back up at him with almost as much mischief as his own smirk had contained, "Mr. Floppy-Ears is very cuddly, and soft." She almost shrieked when his lips found her jaw, then her neck, then her shoulder, then … "And you, Noah Puckerman," and now _Rachel_ was actually growling, "are anything but soft."

"Ok, that's enough!" Quinn's voice from across the room shocked them both back into reality. "Do I need to call a hand-check?"

"Quinn!" Rachel sounded absolutely mortified. "I'm so sorry! I – I thought you were at Alex's! I didn't know you were here!" Rachel scrambled to push Puck off of her so she could sit upright, literally ready to show Quinn her hands.

"Yeah Q, real sorry, I didn't -,"

"Oh save it, Puckerman. I picked your ass up from the airport and let you into the room. You're the reason I'm _not_ at Alex's." Rachel gasped, scandalized, and slapped Puck on the chest.

"Hey babe, you wanna …" Puck wasn't ready to give up just yet, pulling on a strand of Rachel's hair and whispering huskily against her shoulder as he jabbed the thumb of his free hand toward the door.

"No Puckerman." _Way to cock-block, Fabray._ "Tomorrow's Thursday. After breakfast and our U.S. History final, _trust me,_ I'll go to Alex's and make myself scarce. Surely to God you two can control yourselves that long," Puck actually snorted, did she know him? "Okay, fine, _Rachel_ can control herself that long. But until then, let my girl get some sleep. She's got a 4.0 to maintain."

Puck knew he had lost that one when Rachel slumped down and pulled the comforter over her shoulders, although really, he was kind of on Quinn's side with the whole 4.0 thing. His girl was _awesome_ ; no way was he gonna be the one to get in the way of that. Besides, the way he saw it, they had the rest of their lives for all that other stuff, starting as soon as she got home from that damn final.

 


End file.
